PREVIEW

... w its yellowed teeth.

It held something in its clawed hand. "For the first game, this is your card."

He tossed it at me, and I caught it instinctively. The card was cold. Too cold. And it stank. Not like dirt or mold—but like freshly dug graves. A mix of rotting wood, metal, and something worse—something human.

I flinched. "What... is this?"

"We still have rules, Dirga," the creature said casually, as if this were just another board game. "That card is your gatewa ...

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